Holey
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: Fourth in SENSE series. Jayne is soft. River investigates. Oneshot, Rayne.


"You feel that?"

Jayne pulled his jacket closer around him, looking about. The chill breeze of twilight had just run past them, and soaked straight through whatever clothing they had on. Mal had been smart and worn extra layers. Jayne, being Jayne, had refused more than his fair share of clothing to be burdened with. He liked the free movement he got out of his old shirts and hand-me-down jackets. He liked to be able to draw faster and shoot quicker than his opponents, but as it turned out, he also ended up freezing his ass off most of the time.

"Wind's pickin' up," he muttered, glancing ahead at Mal and Zoe, who strode forward without really noticing. He hated night jobs. Then again, he hated working with the sun staring down the back of his neck. But he was getting paid, that had to count for something.

He looked over his back at the rabble following them. They didn't usually bring along the whole family, but the Doc and his crazy sister were needed to create the necessary distraction for this particular outing. The job was simple enough--supposedly corrupt government official squandering allotted funds to his own private estate and leaving the poor fresh out of luck. The plan was to catch this fella (his name was either Watkins or Watson; Jayne didn't know or care to) on his condescending tour of the lower part of town, with River and Simon acting as concerned citizens to distract the apparently thug-like bodyguards he kept with him at all times. While they were occupied, it was Mal's job--he'd picked the short straw--to pull Watkins/Watson into harm's way. That was when the ransoming could start.

He had no idea why Wash had come along. If something went sour, he didn't want his only means of transportation shot dead and the whole ship stranded. Sure, Mal could fly in a pinch, but Jayne figured he'd rather leave that to the professionals. But at least the pilot was entertaining the brother and sister behind them, waving his arms about manically as he related some no-doubt hilarious story of questionable origin. River's bright giggling interrupted Jayne's thought process, and he paused with furrowed brow for a contemplative moment. He managed to shake it off quickly and catch up with Mal and Zoe.

It was a red, dusky sunset behind them as they strode into town; staggered arrivals would hopefully decrease suspicion. Mal went over the plan once more with River and Simon, just to ingrain it into their heads. Problem was, whenever Mal was in charge of the plan, it always seemed to turn against their favor somehow. River's knowing glance straight through Jayne seemed to solidify the fact, and it made his stomach turn.

As luck would have it, Simon was pretty miserable as a distraction. Before the sun had completely set, Jayne was not only freezing his ass off, but he happened to have the muzzle of a rifle pressed firmly against the small of his back. They'd only managed to get their hands on Mal, Zoe and the big merc himself. Wash must've had the smarts to pull the Tams out before any violence on their part could ensue. Looked like Watkins/Watson wasn't going to be a benevolent leader.

"This ain't exactly how I planned on goin' out," Jayne admitted as he glanced over his shoulder, smirking at Zoe. The rifle pressed further into his back, and he winced, facing forward. "Fancied I'd go blazin' in glory, and all that _go se_."

"You're a _pillar_ of optimism," Zoe returned blandly.

"Yeah, well, it ain't gonna go optimizin' itself." He looked over his other shoulder to his bruised captain. "How long you think we got, Mal?"

He looked to the sky, and shrugged against the gun pressed firmly into _his_ back. "Minute, give or take."

"Right." A pause. As if it had been synchronized, both men moved at the same time, Mal cracking his elbow up against his captor's chin and Jayne whipping around like lightning to butt his forehead against that of the man behind him. Both gunmen dropped the the ground, groaning. Zoe was quick to follow suit, lashing out and tripping the man behind her in one swoop. She kicked him again for good measure, retrieving her gun from his hands. Mal was quick to reclaim his own weapon. Jayne was still a walking arsenal.

His knife flew from his hand and planted itself in the neck of a nearby shooter. Mal fired three shots, taking out one man and wounding another. Zoe socked another bodyguard to the chiseled face. She looked to the sky.

"Minute's up, sir!" She called over the volleying shots nearby. Jayne pulled a gun from a leg holster, picking off a few of the rallying men. As if on Zoe's command, _Serenity_ appeared hovering above them. Wind lashed about from her thrusters, frightening a few of the shooters farther back. She made a tentative landing, barely fitting in the town square and badly nicking a pretty gazebo. The three raced off for the ship, firing behind them.

Just when their getaway had been as clean as it could have possibly been at that point, Jayne felt hot fire tear through his shoulder, and another bite into the flesh just where his neck met shoulder. He offered a useless grunt as he fell running, tumbling slightly just before reaching _Serenity_'s lowered ramp. The feeling of pain coursed hard up and down his good arm, and the dust around him barely had time to settle as one thought only ran through his head: _Jayne Cobb don't get shot._

More pain as he shoved himself to standing. One of the bullets hadn't gone all through; hit bone or stopped by something else. The ramp began to close, and Mal grabbed ahold of Jayne's now shot-up arm, eliciting a string of choice words in Mandarin. The merc popped off two more shots with his off hand at those who had shot him before the door shut tightly behind them. The rumble of thrusters surrounded the boat, and she was off without further notice. Jayne leaned grudgingly against the metal behind him, holding his opposite hand tight on the two bullet holes to slow the bleeding. Mal shouted for the Doc and was off without another word, to the bridge.

Simon appeared with his med bag, and asked if Jayne could make it on his own to the infirmary. Between the curses, the doctor was able to discern that Jayne had been shot in the _shoulder_, not the leg, and if he didn't get the bullet out quick--well, Simon didn't want to repeat the rainbow of vulgarities Jayne was able to reproduce. As they hobbled to the infirmary, Simon reassured them that as soon as Wash had pulled them out of their sticky situation, it had been straight to _Serenity_ for a rescue mission.

"Your crazy sister knew somethin' was goin' down," Jayne muttered as he sat on the examination table. His jacket and shirt were off, exposing two bullet holes in the back of him, and only one exit wound near one of his arteries. Lucky. Simon furrowed his eyebrows.

"River told you...?"

"Naw," he winced as Simon applied a strong alcohol to the wounds to sterilize them. "Just this look she shot me, like she felt somethin' brewin' there. Gorramit, would you just get this bullet outta my shoulder?"

The procedure wasn't difficult, though painful without good sedatives. But then, Jayne had always been good with taking pain. He seemed to block it out, not to feel. Simon felt, in some alternate universe where cats were currency or something impossible of the sort, he might even have admired the merc for that. Simon suggested resting in the infirmary until the pain meds had really kicked in; he would _know_, Simon informed him, when they kicked in.

And so Jayne sat in the cold infirmary, picking at the bloody holes in his favorite jacket. He'd been told not to fiddle with the holes in his shoulder, so he was doing the next best thing. As usual, she had a way of sneaking up on him. He, to this day, had no idea how she'd managed to get behind him as he was facing the door, but she'd managed it all right. Her slender little hand snaked out of nowhere and grabbed the jacket from him. He started, wincing at the pain shooting up his arm. He craned his neck backward, and saw River sitting with her knees to her chest on the counter across from him, slipping white fingers through the holes in his jacket.

"Hey, now, that ain't polite!" He didn't feel like standing to retrieve it. It'd probably be more painful than he wanted to deal with at that point. So he turned himself on the exam table, legs dangling, to face the girl opposite him.

"So soft," she muttered, running fingers along the fabric. "No wonder Jayne wears it so often."

"My favorite jacket," he grumbled, staring at the bloodied holes. "And no thanks t' _you_ by the way." River's head bobbed up to look at him through her waterfall of dark hair.

"My fault? My fault Jayne is full of holes? _Jayne Cobb don't get shot_..."

He looked away. "Ain't your fault. Y' still coulda said somethin' about them rifles, though. Thought we'd go about this all peaceable-like, not gettin' shot like a bunch 'a greenies."

"She didn't see rifles," she said, rubbing Jayne's jacket softly against her cheek. "Saw dark, saw red, heard Jayne cursing--and felt fire." She pressed a hand against her shoulder, exactly where Jayne had been shot. He suppressed the urge to scratch nervously as his own wounds.

"Ain't your fault," he said again. Finally, he could feel those pain meds the Doc had told him about starting to kick in. His arm felt light and fuzzy, especially warm where the bullets had marked him. He blinked a few times to ward that same fuzziness from his eyes, then looked up at the girl again. She cocked her head pleasantly at him, hair falling into her eyes.

Impulsively, she got to her feet, moved the foot or so separating the two of them, and pressed her fingers lightly against the gauze wrapped around and under his shoulder. He flinched slightly, offering her a strange look. She smirked, flicking eyes to him.

"Jayne is Holey."

One of his eyebrows quirked up, and--he didn't know if it was because of the meds or her smile--felt the tug of a grin on his own lips.

Her touch, still light, lingered only a moment more on the gauzed wounds. Her hand hovered, questioningly. Before she knew her impulses, River found her fingers against his cheek, running so slightly along his goatee as she'd found herself wishing to do for quite some time. His quirked eyebrow fell seriously, meeting her eye to eye.

"Hey," his voice held that serious Jayne-tone, but was unusually low in the close quarters. "Cut that out." Something about that pause screamed exactly the opposite.

His big hand rose from his side to take her wrist and enclose it in his fingers with intent to pull her away. She was like cool glass in his warm grip, and they both faltered for another moment. Gazes touched, met, mingled, for only an instant. She took her wrist from him quickly, looking with plate-eyes toward the door to the infirmary. As he turned his head to get a look at what had frightened her so quickly, he saw her dart like an animal out the door and disappear. Only moments later, Simon entered, without having seen his sister, and gave an odd look to counter the bewilderment on Jayne's face.

"Has the medicine started working?" Simon asked instead of pondering the oddness of his patient. Blinking, ridding his face of its confusion, Jayne nodded.

"Yeah," he started, then looked to Simon. "Hey Doc, this stuff make you see things... Y'know, _off_ things?"

"You mean hallucinations?" Simon went digging around for something. "No, not this medication." The doctor smirked tightly as he glanced up at Jayne. "Therefore, anything strange you happen to see is entirely your fault."

"Real funny, Doc," he grumbled in reply, unthinkingly running a thumb across the same path River's little fingers had taken on his cheek. He gave a resigning groan, and sat up off of the exam table. "Hungry," he made up an excuse to move, shoving past the doctor and not bothering to retrieve his shirt.

He found her where he usually did, hiding between stacked crates of who-knew-what in the hold. She didn't look up as he wobbled into view, the meds obviously taking over his motor function. He stared down at her, now painfully aware that he'd forgotten his shirt, and how this would look to Mal should he happen to stumble on them.

"What in the ruttin' hell was that all about?" Jayne asked, somehow managing to keep his voice low and quiet. River shuffled her feet, watching her toes instead of looking up.

"It was so soft," she said quietly, thinking of the jacket. "Wanted to know if Jayne was soft, too."

The admission took him off guard, and he stood with mouth hanging slightly open, as it was wont to do when Jayne contemplated anything. If anyone could stand imagining Jayne Cobb blushing, that would have been the time. But instead he stood as firmly as the medicine would allow. She stood to meet him slowly, unfurling herself, hiding her eyes from him.

"She will take the punishment."

A moment passed before she felt him part the stream of her hair to lift her chin to face him. There were many things going on behind those blue eyes of his, most of which was a dark confusion he wasn't used to using. Yet his hand remained anchored on her chin as he thought good and hard.

"I ain't gonna 'punish' you." He removed his hand from her skin to hang useless at his side. "Just--" _Don't do it again_, his mind scolded. But his words changed. "Next time you come on a job, you better tell me if you see any gorram rifles."

She nodded, quietly. "So Jayne won't be holey anymore."

"Right," he muttered as he turned from her.

Holding a hand to his head at the dizziness caused by the meds, he looked once over his shoulder to see those big brown eyes staring back at him. He turned away quickly, nearly falling over from the shift in balance.

"_Holey_," he mumbled, trying to forget the feel of her face on his fingers. "Gorram... little..."

* * *

AN: Woooow, look at that response! Looks like there's a lot of y'all reading my little fics here. It really means a lot to me that you go out of your way to show me some lovin', and the encouragement really helps! Dunno if I'm gonna get along to posting these every day as I seem to be doing, but there's only one more in the series left after this one. I've been considering writing a sequel series, and, since it would be larger, grouping all the oneshots into one large fic. Howzat sound? Getting sick of me and Rayne yet? I hope not! Thanks much again, especially to those who wished me luck on my finals (I'm gonna need it...) Happy reading and see y'all later! 


End file.
